the relations of production

the hand that gives     is the hand that takes     money is our god      make no mistake     they say money talks     and money makes sense    but the game is rigged at our expense     we’re taking names     and talking shit     laying blame     and sick of it     our parasitic system      has left us helpless and alone      but the rich will always prosper      their progress is well known      they tell me this is natural     the rich are rich      the poor are poor    it’s just the way it is      the dynamics of the system defy analysis    but our labour is the price     for the little we can save     we’ll labour for our living    we’ll labour to the grave      we’ll grease the wheels of industry      for our paltry weekly wage

    

let me be

 day breaks bleak and hard    my head is fit to burst     I hate waking up in the cells     I’m nobody’s hero now      I can’t account for myself      but I know that I’m still beautiful      in a ragamuffin way    I listen to my heart    I let it speak for me      there’s no mistake in nature     and there’s no mistaking me      I’ve broken many laws      in my efforts to break free     so lock me up again     throw away the key    break me on the wheel     or fuck off and let me be

fraternity

 after forty days and nights    I’ve come in from the wilderness      to make my bed where the wild things sleep   naked and alone    but I can bear the load    coz in my story I am free     but makes me so certain?    what does freedom mean to me?   well, I’m not free enough     and I’m not satisfied    where’s the peace of mind  I was guaranteed     when I cut the cords that bind?   I cultivated a little space    on the edge of society   coz I’ve lost faith in people    as they’ve lost track of me     I’m something of a misanthrope     it cannot be denied       it was learn to love my neighbour    or find a place to hide     

Las Vegas

my stones ache in the morning      but that’s par for the course    I’m doing jack shit     and I almost regret it      coz you can’t retrieve lost time     and that don’t buy no sleep     I could use some sleep     I’ve been dredging the low end     for forty days and nights      I could tell it like it is    but I would sound insane     I bet my wages on a lightning strike    but I struck out once again    I’m eating crow for breakfast    but this is chicken town        I need to find a new game      before the landlord comes around     so I’m  heading to Las Vegas     to get my business fixed      pump me a few while I wait for the bus    this old dog is learning new tricks

 

cities on fire

cities on fire 

in the republic of sorrows      

cities on fire   

in the land of the free

cities on fire  

where the dark horse rises      

cities on fire

far as the eye can see

we’re talking London and Chicago

we’re talking Memphis Tennessee

I got gasoline in the car

take a ride with me

cities on fire

across the planet

cities on fire

it’s our destiny

 

tyrannised

I guess I’ll tend to my own troubles      and you can tend to yours     don’t talk to me about feelings    I don’t want to talk about my feelings      I want to scream and shout about my feelings      I want to roll them all up into one vicious ball and ram it down your throat      so you can scream about it too    we could scream our skeletons loose    we could scream ourselves empty        we could scream until we are free

your sympathy offends me         I’ll have none of that       I’m pinned up on a meat hook        but I’ll suffer no pity     from acquiescent sheep       I’d rather play the devil    than earn a place in heaven     I’d like to burn it down      and erase it from my heart       I’ve been tyrannised with love       for more than long enough     I’m not asking for forgiveness     I’m just not ready yet      I don’t want to be blessed     if I must be content

shrouds

 tell me brothers and sisters       how well do you sleep?     do you lie down gently with acquiescent lambs?      or run in terror with ravenous wolves?      do you follow secret paths known only to your heart?      are the thoughts that await you there a burden to your mind?     because we abhor what we fear      and we fear what we don’t understand       that’s ok    just don’t think about it       avert your gaze     hide your eyes     bury your fear somewhere deep inside     where it will learn your secrets as it festers in the dark     the lord of death knows each of us by name    he nestles in our sheets as we sleep      and we walk with the ghosts and spectres he sends to haunt our dreams       

we’ve been to some dark places      that’s the topography of life    this world is made of fear and death    there is love of course    but that’s just on the surface     deep down we are motivated by fear     and our greatest fear is death     but if we give it no name      perhaps it will go away       like a bad dream    or a spell of rain     it’s three in the morning     we’re wrestling angels and losing again     but we’ll keep up the pretence as long as we can      there are burdens enough with the coming of day       we’ll shake off our shrouds as we roll out of bed      in the land of the living there’s just no room for the dead

archaeology

poor boy was a loner    poor boy was a shadow     he’d been banished from the tribe       because he had this one weird gimmick     you could say it was his calling      poor boy used to dig up ghosts       he found ghosts everywhere      and people didn’t like it       the ghosts didn’t like it        poor boy didn’t like it either        but he was obsessed with his ghosts        he was so obsessed he became a ghost too      and gradually faded away       soon to be forgotten     but I’ve seen him  by the canal      and on the viaduct too         in the company of ghosts    in the melancholic gloom

 

bipolar distemper

 the blunt edge of depression     rolls across my portion of the sky     it’s gonna rain again    nobody can gauge when or why    somebody help me     I’m coming undone       we all have secret sorrows       I’ve had enough of mine     I woke up into a nightmare      I might never sleep again    some have wounds that do not show       but they bleed     they bleed from the soul    I’m not helpless – I’m hopeless      they call it suicidal ideation    my life is a burning building     I may have to jump     it’s burn or dive      there is a terror beyond falling    the choices here are stark   

bipolar distemper is a side effect of living      and living is a disease with one cure     and one cure alone    I won’t cry in public     I won’t rend my clothes       I’ll weep on the inside    I’ll weep from my soul      there’s no comfort to be had    no magic pills    my soul carries more scars    than living tissue   this is not sadness       sadness will pass like the common cold     this is cancer     a cancer of the soul      I feel so ashamed        to carry this burden     I’ve done something wrong     something so huge   I can’t even comprehend it      the devil has hold of my soul     and from where I sit now       he’s welcome to it

 

lies

 I like to drink    but I only with my friends     I don’t care to drink with strangers     I have to factor in my concentration     got to keep my story straight        my lies always carried more weight than my truths   after all, lies are the common currency    truths are rare as diamonds     I save the truths for the people I trust     what do you say to that?    I don’t know what to say myself      it’s not my place to say     but what do you think?     coz I don’t know what to think    I never knew what to think  I always moved in the wrong direction    is that symptomatic of a poor education?    I could blame my past       but with little conviction       I’ve always been the victim of my own machinations    I couldn’t care less now     but I suffered then     nobody suffers like the poor      and I was impoverished in spirit      I could tell some stories      we all could tell some stories     life is anecdotal and fifty percent deception     but that’s to be expected     how could we live with ourselves if it weren’t for our lies?

the devil

they say it takes one to know one    that the devil knows his friends    and I’m not ready to repent    I’m not through sinning yet       I don’t care what people say    I don’t care what they think     if I pour the poison    I can bear the shame     I’ve often been the villain     in other people’s schemes     but now I set the agenda      we’ll see where that leads      I might play the devil      I might just steal his clothes     I’d rather play the devil    than someone you don’t know     it can take a little evil    to get your business fixed     but they say the devil is worldly wise     and he knows all the tricks

orphans

it’s been a long time now    but some things never change    you took the road with me     with expectations that would tear us apart     you knew how to live       I knew how to dance     I promised you much      but I think I lied   I don’t believe     and I will not serve       I’m not afraid of being alone        I’m not scared of making mistakes       I crawled on broken glass     to get where I am now       my mistakes are portals     to new discoveries     I found myself   all on my own     I drowned in the ocean     you placed between us      I bled for your lies when you found another       but I wished luck in your new adventure    god grant you some peace    on your journey home      

electrical therapy

I need a bigger brain     none of this shit makes sense      I want a long lie down     in the cool room    on virgin sheets       over by the window      where I can see the street       because something is going wrong somewhere      and I’m afraid it’s local      there’s more misery in this neighbourhood than can be quantified      we’re alive and that’s the problem     and it’s quite a problem      but it’s nobody’s fault      

the living have troubles     that span all dimensions      electrical therapy might see them sorted     a zap to the brainpan      could do some good     it’s said to work wonders      for all mental maladies     god knows it changed my motivations      they taught me to think straight     with little blasts of lightning    they lit the path      to some near nirvana       and saw me whole    but not quite holy     am I the bad guy now?      how does that work?

I cut a solitary figure in this situation      but I don’t need a rainy day woman     to come and make my bed      clean my clothes      or serve my daily bread       don’t get me wrong      I don’t want to be alone     I just need a friend      to talk to when I’m stoned      I’m loaded with electrical potential     some find that strange     they might think I’m mental      but I know who I am    and that’s pivotal to my way of thinking

 

mercy

I can’t complain     though I’ve seen better days     today was stillborn      dead on arrival     dismal as an infant’s funeral     bleak as a winter in hell     I don’t seem to mind    there’s no evil portioned to me    I haven’t witnessed before     I have always believed      that whatever comes my way      for good or ill      I must have earned it    so I will own it   quietly   en sotto voce      I don’t believe in drama     or the daily toil and trouble   I believe in something spiritual      manna spilled from heaven    where I trust I’m not forgotten     because I still hope for mercy      in the kingdom yet to come